


The Nights After

by Aurum_Auri



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Necessary Conversations, Nightmares, Post-Canon Fix-It, Pre-Relationship, References to Case Four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: After the events of Case Four, Makoto swore to himself he would forge ahead, forgive and forget the wrongs of the past. But some things are hard to forget, and some memories linger like the taste of cigarettes.Post-canon/canon-compliant conversations with Laurent and Oz that felt like they needed to happen.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 4
Kudos: 136





	The Nights After

**Author's Note:**

> I just had a lot of feelings when I finished watching the show and I really had to just work through them.

It didn't fully sink in on that first night. 

He blamed it on exhaustion and running on the high of a successful con. They were all heady off that crystalline moment of perfection that came from sailing away, briefcase in hand. He crashed into a bed on the ship and slept for hours, so beyond tired that there were no words for how dead to the world he felt. 

At some point, he surfaced briefly. It had to have been the deepest, heaviest sleep he’d had in years, because he barely remembered leaving the boat. His eyes fluttered for only moments in the midday glow, bright through massive windows. Warm arms surrounded him. He was weightless, drifting off the ground, surrounded by a peaceful scent that was so quintessentially  _ Laurent _ that Makoto didn’t even think about it. 

He roused again on a plane, still hazy, but more conscious when he opened his eyes this time. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here, but at this point, he was beyond caring about something as minor as this.

The burble of conversation filled the air, sharp with laughter and the celebratory clinking of glasses. The sun was slowly setting outside the plane windows. He zoned out, somewhat awake but not fully aware, his mind catching up with everything that had happened. 

A weight settled on his chest when he finally opened his eyes fully. Open ocean stretched out beneath them, glittering under the starlight and a crooked moon. He smacked his lips, tasting a bitterness in the back of his throat and the sudden, fierce craving for a cigarette. 

“Well, good morning, my sleepy little soybean,” Laurent chuckled, and Makoto groused quietly, finally turning to look at the others on the plane. Cynthia, Abby, and Shi Won were grinning at him, glasses in hand as they toasted their success. Laurent, seated too close for comfort, beamed. 

Makoto glanced back out the window. It felt familiar. “The private island?” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Yup,” Cynthia said. “There isn’t much to distribute after expenses, but we still need to celebrate properly.”

Behind her, in another seat, Makoto caught a glimpse of Oz. His father. 

In that golden moment of victory, it felt so easy to forgive everything. And the thing was, Makoto was trying. His mother’s words filtered through his senses and flooded his waking thoughts, her voice soft and weak from her dying breaths. Forgiveness. Such a wonderful thing. Bravado and glee made it easy to put on a smile and pretend everything would be fine. 

But forgiveness was hard when cold reality started setting in. Makoto looked away from his father quickly. 

The plan had worked out, in the end. Team Confidence thrived on chaos and improvisation, and it was in that chaos that they had slipped out with the money in hand. In the end, Oz’s great plan had turned out in a win, with no one dead in the ocean and the children set to go into foster homes. 

At what cost? Did it even matter? His hands trembled as the plane descended. He sat in silence, tuning out the others and trying to think of better things. The haze on his mind seemed almost impossible to pull himself out of. 

Laurent’s suggestions were tainted with the possibility of corruption, but Makoto was testing out the limits of his forgiveness and genuinely considering the idea of traveling the world, of a coffee shop of his own. Truthfully, it would be a dream. He had always wanted to walk an honest path. It would be hard work, but Makoto was no stranger to that. 

Thinking about the future softened the past, made it a little more palatable. 

Laurent wasn’t smiling when the plane touched tarmac. His eyes were on Makoto, but his expression was more contemplative. The smile returned as soon as he noticed Makoto looking his way, flirtatious and wide. “Joining us?”

Makoto still felt exhausted. “I don’t really feel like it. I feel like I haven’t slept right in months,” he admitted. 

“C’mon!” Laurent cajoled. “Just one drink? You slept all day! We’ve got some real catching up to do, you know!”

Makoto considered it. “Just one,” he said, hesitating, “but then I’m getting some more sleep. I’m not… really feeling that sociable right now.”

Laurent clapped him on the shoulders and steered him off the plane, into the villa nearby. Another plane nearby was steadily emptying as well, with all the countless helpers, some still dressed as police, streaming into the villa with cheers. 

The party had already begun in full force. More champagne bottles were being popped and voices rose over the ocean waves. Makoto found himself smiling. The energy drew him in, as long as he avoided looking for too long at his father. 

With alcohol, Makoto let go by fractions, enjoying the magic energy of the party and even getting coaxed into a reenactment of part of the evening. Cynthia disappeared for a while, but Abby and Laurent were there, and it quieted the tiny, irrational panic that bubbled up inside him. 

It was dumb for his mind to jump to danger when one of his friends was out of sight. But was he really the one at fault here? They had only ever called themselves lone wolves, then turned around and devoted themselves wholly to making sure everyone got out safe in the end. The duplicity was stunning, in every sense of the word. 

“Great news, everyone!” Cynthia called, re-emerging from a hallway she must have been down. She was beaming from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling. “When I bought Kawin from that damned auction, I was doing it expecting to help him find a good family one day, one that would treat him right and give him the opportunities he deserves. And we will still find families for all the children we rescued, no matter what.”

She paused, and her smile went impossibly wider. “But… I’m delighted to announce that I will be officially adopting Kawin myself, making him the first of many to find new homes. Kawin, things won’t always be this crazy, but for now, welcome to the family.”

Cheers went up around the room in a roar of approval. Makoto felt his stomach sink as the boy appeared down the hall behind Cynthia, a tiny, reserved smile on his face. Strong, practical, rational, a leader among the other children at first due to age, then because the others naturally gravitated toward him for support. 

Makoto didn’t know if Kawin was reserved by nature or circumstance. It didn’t matter much. His quiet fire would pair well with Cynthia’s own bold, unrepentant style. Makoto had never seen her as a mother figure, but there was no one he could imagine better suited to the task of taking Kawin out into the wider world. 

Kawin’s eyes swept the room, and landed on Makoto. The soft expression on his face turned hard. 

Makoto swallowed around nothing, his throat suddenly tight. Kawin didn’t blink, didn't look away. His glare narrowed, unblinking at Makoto, no doubt remembering all of his suffering at the hands of the traffickers, and Makoto’s own role in everything. Makoto suddenly felt painfully small and incredibly, overwhelmingly responsible for his pain. 

He dropped his eyes to the floor as Cynthia kept talking. 

Makoto felt hollow, bile rising in the back of his throat as he remembered the lights of the auction house. The solemn faces of the stolen children haunted his memories, unsmiling as they were led out and sold like cattle destined for slaughter. 

The families who had traded their own flesh and blood for a pittance. The men and women who traded in human lives like jewels and antiquities. Every last damned man and woman responsible for the trafficking that Makoto had been part of, because he had been one of them, indistinguishable from the rest in all the ways that truly mattered. 

And then there was Suzaku, who had treated Makoto like flesh and blood, who gave Makoto a taste of the mother he ached to hug again. Suzaku, whose fondness for cats felt like a cruel, cosmic joke, taking Makoto as her own and accepting the small gifts of cat trinkets. She gave him the respect and the trust that Makoto had always desperately wanted, a figure of stability that fed the little parts that cried out for praise and any kind of parental recognition he had lost so long ago. 

It was so easy to see a world where Makoto really did betray Laurent and Oz. He could picture the wakizashi blade he drew on his own father, see it puncture the Kevlar vest and draw blood— real blood, not a blood pack stashed inside his coat jacket. Then he could point the blade at Laurent, or simply let the countless guns do their job. 

Everything in his life had been for that exact moment atop the false high rise. Every last moment seemed to feed into it. Just thinking back was enough to make Makoto seethe. Every last con had been to teach him the skills he needed to pull this off. 

And then there was London. Oh, London, where Makoto had been so certain the scheme had been of his own plans. But learning to auction off art was just a trial run for auctioning off children in the end, wasn’t it? Just another skill to ingratiate himself into the Yakuza. A thankless task that left him scarred forever. 

They could have told him. They could have  _ warned  _ him. 

It wasn’t just the things Makoto had done, the way he had forced himself to swallow back his own morals and carry out the dirty work with a  _ smile.  _ It was the fact that none of them trusted him enough to fill him in on the plan, save for the barest traces he needed to continue on. 

They had left him to think Abby and Cynthia had  _ died.  _ In that moment, blanks and fake blood or not, Makoto would not have regretted pulling the trigger on his own father. He had been alone and broken, his very soul carved from his body with a jagged knife. The ragged edges were held together with what felt like cellophane tape and nicotine. 

God, he wanted a cigarette right now. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Abby said dryly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Makoto looked at Kawin from the corner of his eyes, feeling the cold, unblinking stare like ice down his spine.

Abby clicked her tongue. “Don’t tell me you still feel guilty. You did what you had to do to get them out. And if they hate you forever, what does it matter? They have better lives now. They can move forward. That’s more than they could say if someone else had been there.”

“Yeah,” Makoto said, sucking down a shaky breath. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… it’s stupid. You’re right.”

Abby looked down at the plate of food in her hand. She shrugged. “He’ll probably be uneasy around you for a while. Just get over it.” 

Makoto sighed. His hands were shaking despite his attempts to stop it. “I think I’m done celebrating for tonight, anyway. Night, Abby.”

“See ya,” she said. “A few of us are having brunch tomorrow on the beach, if anyone is actually up. Then it’s figuring out where we’re gonna go next.” The party would run most of the night anyway, considering how late it was when they started. No one would actually be awake before noon. 

“Thanks,” Makoto said, slowly standing. The hallway was vacant now as Cynthia and Kawin made their way through the gathered people, and Makoto kept to the opposite side of the room to get as much distance between him and them as possible. 

The bedroom had a balcony, and Makoto took the chance to step outside and tap a cigarette free from its slightly worn box. The lighter’s flame wavered in the moonlight. His eyes closed and he took a long, slow drag, hands shaking more violently than before. 

God, it was disgusting. Everything about it was awful, and yet Makoto craved it, needed the rush and the escape when it was all too much. It was a distraction, a way to pad the ragged edges and cope with what he’d done. He needed to quit. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t care to try just yet. 

Smoke curled from his lips as he exhaled. He watched the dark clouds dissipate as they rose skyward, until they were just a memory, as faint as the feeling of his mother’s touch, as distant as her long-forgotten smile. 

_ Forgive _ , she’d said. 

What was his father doing, after all this? Helping the stolen children find permanent homes, sure, but beyond that, Makoto didn’t know where Oz was going. He didn’t know if he even wanted to know. Maybe Makoto would forget his own path and never look back. 

Reconcile and forget. Let it fade like smoke on the wind. 

He took a long pull. The embers of the cigarette smoldered in the dark, the tobacco slowly turning to ash. He curled his lips and watched the ghost of his breath billow up. Too soon, Makoto burned his cigarette down to the filter, and it hadn’t fully taken the edge off yet. 

Makoto snuffed it out on the wooden rail of the balcony. The butt was tossed into a trashcan by the door, and he shed the torn, blood-pack stained suit jacket and frayed tie. He dumped those into the trash as well. Laurent was supposed to have clothes ready for him, but if all else failed, he’d simply steal them from someone else. 

Probably Laurent, as punishment. 

In just his trousers and boxers, he sat at the edge of the bed, cigarette box in hand, the taste of bile growing in the back of his throat once more. He tossed the box to the bedside table next to his lighter and phone. A little restraint, he could do that at least. He wasn’t a chain smoker yet, and he wasn’t about to start. 

He shoved his trousers to his ankles and climbed into bed, feeling every last one of his weeks undercover. He’d slept all day, and he was still exhausted. It didn’t take long at all for sleep to find him. But when it did, it carried with it tumultuous dreams. 

The quiet was eerie. He was surrounded by people and yet it was silent. Not even his own footsteps made a sound as he walked down a crowded city street. Then he blinked, and suddenly he was no longer in Japan. Ramshackle homes clung to sun-baked earth. Some of the children screamed as they were dragged away. Most were silent, old enough to know that begging wouldn’t undo what their parents had just done. 

Makoto screamed for them, begging to be allowed to let them go, to save them from this fate. He begged them to follow him out of the building to safety. Kawin looked at him with dead eyes. “Where would we even go? Nobody wants us anyway.”

Makoto blinked again, and the covered trucks twisted like serpents as they drove away without him, metal streaking out and swelling into silver waves. Blue lapped all the way up to the white edges of the surf, and there was open ocean. A boat rocked at sea. 

He was screaming louder now. Abby and Cynthia looked up at him, unrepentant to the last. “We’re lone wolves, don’t you forget. Mess up and we’ll leave you behind.” 

His own father put the gun in his hands. This time, it was Makoto pulling the trigger.  _ BANG. BANG.  _ His fault. He was the reason they had almost died, he had to be the one living with their deaths for days and weeks-

“Makoto!” He blinked, and it was dark, lit only by the half-light glow of early dawn filtering through curtains. He was screaming. He couldn’t stop. 

The world was a rush of panic and color. Hands fluttered around him, and he yanked at the blankets he was tangled in, shying away from the soft touch trying to calm him. Broken sobs ripped from his chest. His hand flew out, shaking violently, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the bedside table and half crumpling the box in his frenzy. 

Laurent above him looked pained. Makoto ignored him, sucking down huge, gasping breaths and trying to fumble his way through lighting a cigarette. Laurent sighed and held the flame steady long enough for it to catch. Makoto took a long, desperate pull, eyes closed and hands trembling in the low light. 

“You know, I really don’t want you making a habit of smoking in here,” Cynthia said dryly. Her expression wasn’t annoyed or angry. It seemed relieved and a bit uneasy. Makoto looked up at her in surprise, his stomach dropping out. 

Cynthia, Abby, and Oz were all in the doorway looking in. Abby and Oz looked especially haggard, like they’d been sleeping before. Cynthia looked like she’d still been making rounds when she came by. He looked away, feeling sick. 

Makoto took another puff before answering. His voice was still shaking violently when he answered, “Sorry… I won’t do it again. Why… why are you guys in my room?”

Abby gave him a dry look, the circles under her eyes looking heavy. “We heard a lot of screaming. Thought you were being murdered.” Makoto finally noticed the knife in Abby’s hand.  _ Oh.  _ She wasn’t kidding. 

“Just a bad dream, Edamame?” Laurent sounded like he was joking, but it was half hearted at best. 

“Yeah,” Makoto gasped out. He was still trembling. It felt raw, still tumbling through his head so frantically that reality was difficult to parse. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” It felt more like he was trying to reassure himself than anyone else. 

“You don’t look fine,” Abby muttered. 

“I’ll be fine,” he amended firmly, taking one more shaky puff. He closed his eyes and exhaled. “Just… go back to bed you guys. Don’t worry about me. It was just a dream.”

Abby gave him a long look, then nodded. “Whatever. I’m getting some more sleep.” She vanished from the doorway. 

Cynthia lingered longer, looking unhappy. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Makoto said. Laurent- oh, bless and damn him- had a fucking ashtray in his hand that he’d pulled from god knows where in the room. Makoto tapped the cigarette over it, focusing all his attention on the small act instead of looking at the others. 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Cynthia said. “Just… try to take those outside next time, if you can.”

“Yeah,” Makoto agreed. “Yeah, I will. Sorry.” 

Cynthia sighed, and she tapped Oz on the shoulder, giving him a look. Oz said nothing, and that was perfectly fine. Makoto didn’t even look at him as he left the room. Only Laurent was left. 

“You know you can head out, too. Get some more sleep,” Makoto said, his voice husky and quiet. “Sorry for waking everyone up.”

“Are you really okay?” Laurent said. 

“Y-yeah. I’m totally fine. Seriously. Just go back to bed, it’s alright.”

Laurent sighed and sat on the foot of the bed instead. It was silent for a long time as Makoto finished his cigarette and crushed it into the ashtray. “You should really quit, you know,” Laurent said, opting for a smile. “Those things will kill you.” 

Makoto said nothing. He just kept staring at the sheets in silence. At last, he said, “I’m still struggling to forgive you. I don’t want to feel this weight on my chest anymore, I just want to move forward and forget. You, my… well, Oz…”

“It’s not working out, is it?” Laurent said. 

Makoto sighed. “Not really. Laurent, I sold _ children.  _ I thought- I really thought Abby and Cynthia had _ died!  _ And I don’t know what Oz told you, probably everything, but… the things I did, the things I said… I just wish you had told me earlier.” 

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” Laurent said. “Abby and Cynthia wanted me to tell you more, but I didn’t want to put you in that position where you would overthink it.”

“Because I would fuck it up,” Makoto said dryly. 

“Well, yes, frankly,” Laurent said. “You’re more predictable when you don’t know what’s going on. But would it have been as convincing if you’d known? Would it have changed what you did, in the end? The steps were fixed. Your part to play wouldn’t have changed if I had told you or not.”

“I know that, and I know it doesn’t change the fact that it _ happened,  _ and it’s done and over. But… Laurent… I guess in the end, what I need to know… why me? You could have grabbed anyone. It didn’t need to be Oz’s son. It didn’t have to be someone who just wanted to do the right thing.”

“But that’s exactly why,” Laurent said. Makoto blinked at him, not understanding. “I didn’t need a conman who already had all the skills and lack of morals and whatever else. I needed a  _ good man _ to be inside. I know you’re sensitive, and I know how much it affected you. But it needed to be you. It needed to be someone who couldn’t be swayed by the money, the opportunities, someone who would never forget the children when it came down to it, even if you didn’t give a damn about my own selfish reasons.”

“I- I just don’t get  _ why, _ though,” Makoto sighed. He raked his fingers through his messy hair. 

“No one else would have… cared. Definitely not about Dorothy, not as much as Oz and Shi Won and I did. You know how Cynthia and Abby came into the fold, you know why they stay. So I needed someone who could, even if they didn’t care about why we did this, still see it through to the end, if not for my sake, if not for all of our sakes, then at least for the sake of the kids that were suffering in there. Someone who was at least that good, who didn’t have someone the yakuza could hang over their head, who couldn’t be persuaded by money or some newfound loyalty or whatever else makes people lose their way.”

Makoto was quiet for a long time, processing the words. 

“And honestly, Edamame? It was because it was you that I knew we could do it.” Laurent reached into his pocket. In his palm was a small green figurine, long ago won from a gacha machine in a time long since forgotten. 

For the first time, Makoto realized Laurent was shirtless, but what caught his eye was that the gold chain around his neck was gone, along with the ring. The case was done. Oz had been vague and called the ring a lucky charm when Makoto had asked him about it. It seemed more like a specter of misfortune hanging over Laurent and Dorothy both. 

“You’re so… sentimental,” Makoto said at last, feeling his chest ache. “I never thought I’d say that about you of all people,” he added with a small scoff. 

Laurent smiled. “Maybe you’re right. I’m just a sentimental fool who can’t let things go.” He sighed and laid back, taking up the foot of the bed, still staring up at the green figure in his hand. “You don’t look as pale as before.”

“You know, as nice as the concern is, it’s a little difficult to believe it’s genuine right now. Especially after tossing me out a plane with nothing but Abby to slow my fall, or making me sell drugs-”

“That was your own doing,” Laurent reminded him with a laugh. It faded into an awkward silence. “I won’t apologize for the cases I took you on because I’m not sorry, and I don’t think you want empty words right now. I didn’t ever have noble intentions for you, or for the money. I’m not Robin Hood, though I do actually donate some of the money, believe it or not.”

“I actually don’t,” Makoto said, making Laurent laugh softly to himself.

“I wanted revenge. I wanted to find an absolution for Dorothy. I… I wanted to set her ghost at peace, for all she had done for me in my life. I’m not a saint and I know it. I’m not honest to you as much as you would like me to be, but I am telling the truth now, for whatever that’s worth.”

Makoto was quiet. They listened to the soft whirr of the fan overhead, the steady in and out of their quiet breaths in the tropical air. “Oz told me a bit about her. And… you. You two were close.”

“Closer than close. She gave me meaning in an empty world, and a philosophy to live by that was better than philandering my way through the streets and getting beaten up by common street thugs. Call me cliché all you like. I didn’t know what love really was until I met her. She… well, I don’t think you two would have seen eye to eye on much, but she was so _ bright.  _ It felt like I couldn’t look away.”

“Oz told me she brought you into the group, and you fell in love. That it was supposed to be your last case.”

“I fell in love far before she did. She swore she’d never marry, never tie herself down, never leave the life of crime. But for me… she was willing to try. And that was enough.”

“Would she have even been happy in a life like that?” Makoto asked gently. “Even if you were in love, even if you wanted to stay together… what if she wanted to keep going?”

Laurent was very still on the bed, not even breathing. 

Makoto wasn’t quite finished twisting the knife, feeling a bit of petty pleasure in seeing his words finally stick, instead of just sliding off Laurent like water off a duck. “Oz told me you were the one pushing for it to end. She lived and breathed and died for her cons, for the money and thrill and vindication. Could she have truly been happy living a normal life? Or was that just you being selfish?”

“I just wanted to protect her,” Laurent said quietly. “Too little, too late. I just… wanted to try. We could have been happy. I could have made her happy.” Laurent’s hand was curled in a fist and shaking. It didn’t make Makoto feel any better to see Laurent so on edge, not as much as he thought it would. 

“Maybe,” Makoto said at last. “Is she… at peace now?”

The fist relaxed. “She is. It was the last con. The real last con, for all of us. Cynthia is going to get Kawin on his feet and into a good school. Abby wants to go back to America, but I don’t know what she’s planning on doing there. Probably something dangerous and brutally physical that none of us could ever do. Shi Won mentioned something about Seoul, I think. Kudo is tagging along.”

“And you? Would you really be happy giving up all these cons?”

Laurent was quiet, the look on his face impossible to read as he looked at Makoto. “I was ready to leave years ago, when I had Dorothy by my side. That feeling hasn’t changed now that she’s gone. If anything, I feel more ready than ever. We are… truly terrible at being lone wolves.” He barked out a shallow laugh, bitter at himself, at the world, at something Makoto couldn’t discern. Maybe at himself. 

“You were prepared to die to get your revenge.”

“It’s no different than Abby looking for a place to die. And now she has meaning, and now, so do I. Countless people got their justice. You got your father back. My work… well, it’s done. I think it’s time I finally chase my childhood dreams. I’m not getting any younger here.”

He offered Makoto a smile. This one felt more real than any of the others.

“You look tired still. I should let you get back to sleep,” Laurent said, sitting upright. 

“I don’t want to,” Makoto said, and he meant it. He didn’t feel tired anymore. If he fell back asleep, his dreams would just be tortured by more nightmares. Laurent stayed at the foot of the bed, just watching. “Did Oz tell you what he wants to do?”

“Back to Japan, after he finishes with the kids. Are you going with him?”

“I don’t know,” Makoto said. “We’ve been apart for so long. He doesn’t even feel like my dad anymore. He’s just this person I used to know, who ended up being nothing like my memories and yet exactly the same. That probably sounds dumb…”

“Mmm, a little. But I think I get it. Well, you could always come with me. Smooth talker like you would do well wherever you go. You’ll have to keep working on your accent if you want to do that, though!”

Makoto groaned. “You ass. Honestly though, I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going. It doesn’t even feel real. I keep expecting you to set me free and then one day, months from now, I’ll turn around and there you are with a new con.”

“I’ll try to give you a little more forewarning than that next time,” Laurent said wryly. “So then, are you going to be a good little soybean and live an honest life? No more tricking little old ladies and unsuspecting young men in restaurants?”

“I don’t need this patronizing from someone who kept dragging me back into a life of crime.”

“You’re the only one among us who has ever served time,” Laurent reminded him. “And you’re the only one who can’t be trusted to follow the plan.”

“Sorry for having a conscience,” Makoto groused. “I still saw them through to the end, at least. Even when I thought I got the others killed.”

Laurent sighed, long and deep. “You fuck a lot of things up, Edamame, but we did make it this far.”

“It’s got to count for something, at least,” Makoto said wryly. His hand wasn’t shaking anymore, and the box of cigarettes was less of a temptation than it had been ten minutes ago. Still, he turned the box over in his fingers, feeling the cigarettes inside shift and slide against one another. “You’re right, I need to quit these. They taste like shit, anyway.”

“Maybe it’ll taste better after sex,” Laurent teased. “Not that you would know.”

Makoto flushed and threw a pillow at him. “Not you making more virgin jokes. You’re worse than Abby.”

“If you ever want to rid yourself of the burden of inexperience, you know you only need to ask. I’m more than happy to help,” Laurent said. 

“I’m not like you. Sex doesn’t come before love. Not for me.”

Laurent leaned forward, lashes lowering. “I’m not opposed to trying.” 

Makoto smacked him again, making Laurent laugh and let out a wounded sound. “Don't joke around!” he hissed. 

Laurent smiled, softly, softer than ever before. It was the kind of look Makoto remembered on a sunset-stained perch, when his clothes were stained by fake blood after trying to play an, admittedly, weak joke on the others. It was the kind of expression that had hidden depths to it, with more words to it than could ever be expressed.

Something about it made Makoto’s chest ache. 

“I never said I was joking. Not about this, my little soybean. Let me know if you ever want to meet up and start over. We can get lobster again, maybe.” Laurent stood and started for the door. A million words hesitated on the tip of his tongue, but none managed to escape. 

The door closed at Laurent’s back, leaving Makoto in silence. 

…

It took time to bring himself to find Oz the next morning. Talking to Laurent felt like a weight taken off his chest, and there was one more weight Makoto wanted to deal with sooner than later. 

He found Oz sitting in the kitchen, eyes heavy, sipping a mug of black coffee. “Hey,” Makoto said softly. 

Oz set his mug down on the table. “The others are already on the beach.” 

“I know,” Makoto said. “I actually wanted to talk to you… y’know, before you leave.”

If Oz was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead, he took a long, slow breath. “Got a lot of questions, I bet. A lot of things were said the other night. Things that absolutely needed to be said.”

“Do you regret it?” It was all Makoto said, and all he needed to know. 

Oz sighed. “It’s hard to explain how I feel about it. Yes, certainly, I regret abandoning you and your mother. But at the time, there was no choice at all. It was either prison, or I would be made to write my own suicide note. I wanted the chance to help Laurent down the line. I wanted to avenge Dorothy as much as the rest. She was as much a friend of mine as the others were. I didn’t know…”

“You didn’t know mom would be on her deathbed by the time you got out,” Makoto said coldly, looking down at Oz. Oz’s head dropped a fraction of an inch, and Makoto took a steadying breath. “Sorry. I’m trying to… forgive. She never gave up on you, you know? Even on the last day, the last minute of her life, she never doubted you.”

“I never stopped thinking about you two,” Oz said softly. “I know it’s probably hard for you to believe. I wanted to go back so many times. I thought… Surely your life would be better off without me weighing you down. If I wasn’t there, you could move forward. Move on. Be… better than me. When I saw you were the one Laurent had chosen for the job, I just… I couldn’t believe it.”

“And yet the plan continued.”

“It was too late by then,” Oz said ruefully. “He wouldn’t have picked you if he didn’t think you’d be up to the task. They  _ did _ have their doubts, to be fair... But I have to say, you weren’t half bad. Though I really thought you’d choose some better friends than this.” From his crooked smile, Makoto could tell it was only a joke. 

Makoto laughed to himself. “Yeah, I thought I would, too. I haven’t been the best at that, the last few years. But… I guess they aren’t so bad,” he said, smiling. “Cynthia is so confident and outgoing… she isn't afraid to say exactly what she thinks, and I know she’s got my back even if no one else does. Abby’s a bit rough around the edges, but she’s scary competent at everything, and she’s good deep down. Really deep down. Please don’t tell her I said that,” Makoto added quickly. 

Oz laughed. “She is a bit harsh sometimes, but it’s refreshing. Laurent found himself a good team.”

“He did,” Makoto murmured. He thought about Laurent’s offer for dinner in the future, of starting over with the blond asshole who had taken over so much of Makoto’s life, consumed so many of his waking thoughts, drove him crazy like nothing else.

“Laurent says he’s done with cons… Something about chasing childhood dreams. I don’t know if I actually believe him yet. What else would someone like us actually do?” Makoto said with a small laugh, trying to make a joke of it. 

“It might surprise you. You would have made a good lawyer, you know. Quick thinking, a good head for memorization, some creativity. I think Laurent wanted to be a… Perhaps a diplomat? He mentioned it once, I might be wrong.”

Makoto hummed. “A diplomat, huh? Well, he’s certainly fluent enough in, well, almost everything. And a silver tongue for negotiations. He probably would do great at that. If he’s willing to lead an honest life, maybe… maybe I’ll eventually take him up on his offer of starting fresh.”

“Starting fresh?” Oz said. 

Makoto shrugged. “I mean, we didn’t get off on the best foot from the start, and he’s what Abby calls ‘a total horn dog’. But as much as he is a lying asshole and a shameless flirt, he’s not as bad as he could be, at least when he isn’t asking to have sex all the time.”

Oz set his coffee down hard enough to make the table rattle and the liquid inside slosh. “Laurent does  _ what  _ now? To you?”

“Yeah?” Makoto said. “Haven’t you seen it? He's not exactly subtle about it.”

“He’s fifteen years older than you!” Oz was half on his feet now, looking shocked beyond belief. 

Makoto gave him a tired look. “If his age is the biggest issue you’ve got with me sleeping with Laurent, I’ve got some news for you about the other shit he’s done. And second,  _ Oz,  _ I know you haven’t been around since high school, but I’m actually an adult now. I pay taxes. I can make my own decisions. And I don’t need someone who  _ used _ to be my father trying to tell me what I can and can’t do. I know he’s an asshole, I know he’s a liar and a flirt and a total shithead. But… he’s also far too charming for his own good… and there’s his stupid, handsome face… I’m just giving him a chance. Not everything, just a chance to… start fresh between us.” 

The air was heavy for a second. Makoto didn’t back down. Oz sighed. He sank into the chair, taking a long, long drink of his coffee. He cleared his throat when he finished. 

“Well. I can’t tell you anything you wouldn’t already know about him, at this point,” Oz said. “I really should have known. The way he looks at you… Well, it was the same way he looked at Dorothy. Be careful? Please? If not for me, then for your mother? Laurent is a good man at his core, but he’s… intense. I just don’t want you getting hurt. I mean… any more than you already have.”

Makoto lingered in the room, wearing the ghost of a smile. “I’ll try. For mom. Maybe one day we can meet up and talk again.”

“Are you going with Laurent?” Oz asked. 

Makoto shook his head. “No, not right now. I think I want to do some traveling before I make any choices. Try some more coffee, see some more places. Experience more life on my own terms.”

Oz smiled at that. “That sounds good. Let me know the next time you’re in Japan. I know a place that you need to try at least once in your life. My treat.”

“I will. I should go make sure Abby hasn’t flown off yet. I was hoping she’d give me a ride to the next airport.”

“Of course. Bye, Makoto. Good luck.”

“Bye… dad.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/aurumauri14)!


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